


Laura

by TortoiseMaiden



Category: Carmilla - J. Sheridan Le Fanu, Original Work
Genre: F/F, Flower Language, Literature, Past Relationship(s), Poetry, Stalking, Witches, also this kind of counts as an original work, i just thought it’d be a nice bit of intertextuality, i think, laura can’t get a break, the maid is literally lizzie from rossetti’s goblin market, they take pity on carmilla, this isn’t a major thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23431147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TortoiseMaiden/pseuds/TortoiseMaiden
Summary: She looks almost as pale as four months before, when the Devil followed them home.
Relationships: Laura (Carmilla - J. Sheridan Le Fanu)/Original Female Character(s), Past Carmilla Karnstein/Laura (Carmilla - Sheridan Le Fanu)
Kudos: 3





	Laura

Dressed in the rusty shift she died alone in,  
The Countess follows her love in a pursuit  
From Austria through the long tour of Italy,  
And to each house she sleeps in.  
She slips in and pines  
As Laura daydreams her life away,  
Thinking of the woman just behind the door.

When one foot pushes the threshold,  
Laura starts from her reverie,  
The Countess flees, too scared of hunters  
And stakes and priests and fathers and  
Too cowardly to confront the lady  
For whom she was slain,  
Of whom she nearly killed now nightly stalks.

The fourth time,  
Regarding what’s the stakes,  
The Countess steals a dress from the washroom.  
A black cat she lies,  
For two hellish weeks,  
In a nest deep in the Roman catacombs.

When the locals kick her out,  
(Having found a foul-smelling girl-cat  
Bloodying up their bones)  
She finds herself perched on the bedroom window  
On a Tuesday night, three purple hyacinths  
Tucked between her teeth, tail wafting the sea air.  
She swats at a seagull flying too close,  
Who squawks as he hits the glass - Laura wakes,  
Totters to the window to stare.

It isn’t opened that night.  
Nor the next when she comes again,  
With a pot of lavender taken from someone's balcony.  
Not the night after that, or after that.  
But Laura presses sweaty fingers to the window  
In a mockery of petting.

There will be no invitation here.

Next morning, Laura and her father take a stroll.  
He asks after her health; she looks almost as pale as  
Four months before, when the Devil followed them home.

Meanwhile

The housemaid wipes away strange  
Smears on both sides of the glass,  
And dried marks on the peeling paint of the sill  
Next to the lavender and wilting hyacinths.

Laura’s dressing table is crowded with the rustling chatter  
Of fresh and drying flowers. The housemaid   
Wonders if she ought to report to the father  
Of his daughter entertaining suitors.  
Deciding it’s not worth the hassle, Elizabeth  
Places a pink rose on Laura’s pillow.

The lady in question never opens the window,  
But talks to her maid in secret talk.  
An exchange of crosses later, swears to secrecy,  
There they scatter orange oil.   
Blossoms fade, are eventually thrown,  
Kitty Countess stays away, as Laura and  
Lizzie and father move, again.  
They’re rather close now.

The Countess gives up.

Finding the locals who kicked her from the catacombs,  
A kind tribe of witches who grind  
Bones to feed the soil,  
Meal for their goats and their beets and their strawberry trees.  
“What is sin?” They ask, as they take in the Countess,  
Call her Carmen, and scold her to the quick,  
For getting in too deep.  
They push ruby-dyed goat cheese, peppered spinach,  
Beetroot-blood-berry drinks to her lips,  
Shove the brittle shift from her shoulders,  
Her body to bathe for the first time in months.

Cleansed, she sleeps in a blacked-out room  
As the witches dance outside.  
Walls, decked in pinned butterflies and clay cat totems,  
Teeth, and miniature vats of blood.

She sleeps til she’s strong enough to get over herself  
And stop chasing a human-girl who never wanted her.

**Author's Note:**

> Don’t think too deeply about this. It’s just a poem I wrote the other day after re-reading Le Fanu’s greatest work ever. In my head, Carmilla absolutely lived (ha) even though the text said she got hit through the heart with a stake. These are the words after Laura describes Carmilla’s execution: 
> 
> “My father has a copy of the report of the Imperial Commission, with the signatures of all who were present at these proceedings, attached in verification of the statement. It is from this official paper that I have summarized my account of this last shocking scene.” 
> 
> What do you think about this? Personally, I reckon that all those who went to do the deed either found the grave empty (Carmilla had fled after her discovery) and lied in the document to seem like heroes, OR they did find her but did a shoddy job of killing her. Either way, she is definitely still haunting Laura at the end of the story, whether literally or through Laura’s dreams/PTSD. I decided to write a poem in the case where Carmilla is still kicking and is absolutely stalking Laura across Europe - I see her as a very clingy ex-girlfriend who needs to learn when to stop :/
> 
> P.S. I am in no way condoning C’s behaviour. She is a vampire. She has killed countless people for food. 
> 
> P.P.S. Who else is finding poetry a great stress relief from all the pandemic worries at the moment? Stay safe everyone!
> 
> P.P.P.S. Does it count as Major Character Death if one of the characters is a vampire?
> 
> P.P.P.P.S. I don’t like the predatory lesbians trope, nor do I like abusive power imbalances, but I am fond of the inherent horniness and homoeroticism that accompanies vampire/human relationships in literature. Dracula/Jonathan or Lucy/Mina anyone? I don’t think I liked Dracula (the book) for anything other than it’s ships tbh; I found most of the book surprisingly dull. Carmilla was an incredible awakening for me.


End file.
